A Matter of Perspective
by moonlightmistic719
Summary: Lets play a game, a guessing game. The question? Who can stop the rain? Shh, I'll give you a hint. Youth, reality, strength, and ability are all matters of personal perception. Can you guess who I am?  Not yaoi/OC story line
1. Prologue: The Rules

_Prologue: The Rules_

Samantha loomed over Calina's face closer than would be considered comfortable. The woman sat below, frightened by the spirit's presence, reaching weakly for her gun, and steadily praying in the back of her mind that there was at least one bullet left within it. The young ghost-like child was ripped apart, her bones playing hide and seek with every movement she made, poking through the gaping wounds on her arms and legs. Her white dress had been torn to threads, and her blonde hair shimmered until it was practically grey in the deadened light of the theater.

Her breathing echoed hauntingly as her almost fleshless mouth pulled into a tense grin. Calina had heard stories of this young girl, of a spirit who owned the undead and controlled their actions. She is known as the keeper of the hell-hounds, killed by her own pet, and out for revenge against the living. How cruel irony was.

"Hi, " the girl chirped; Calina could feel tears stinging at her eyes as she reached again for the gun. Her body was beaten and her flesh torn as she sat alone next to the Speed Cola machine. No zombie had shown up for quite some time, but at this point she would prefer one over the child's gruesome appearance; at least she'd know how to kill it. "I said HI!" the child shrieked again.

"Hi," she whispered back, voice cracking in her own ears. Damn she needed a revive!

"You're pretty!" Samantha yelled, her voice echoing eerily through the fogged air. The woman tried to smile; how like a child to voice their thoughts immediately.

"Thank you," she breathed, fighting her falling eyes.

"You're a girl," Sam stated back, and Calina nodded stiffly. "That's good, because if you were a boy I'd send my pets after you, hee hee!" The woman tried to smile weakly as the child laughed heartily in front of her. "But since you are a girl, I'm going to help you!" The ghost giggled, coming unbearably close to the woman's face once more. "I like your eyes."

"Thank you," she mouthed inching back, the wall hindering her escape.

"Can I have them?" The woman winced.

"I…I need them, Samantha."

"I want them, I want them!" The girl stomped her foot.

"But I need them, dear," Calina repeated in a motherly tone.

"You can have mine, though!" Sam urged playfully.

"What do you mean?" Calina asked weakly. The child got closer, her smile widening. Samantha blinked quickly, and her childish-blue eyes changed to a green that directly mirrored the woman's own.

"I'm pretty now too!" she sang happily, spinning around innocently. Calina instinctively reached her hand towards her eyes, touching the skin of her eyelid. Her face twisted into a primitive rage as she finally took hold of her MP40, watching the dancing child closely as she lifted it to aim. The girl stopped suddenly as if sensing the weapon, and turned her head sharply to look at the shakily wielded gun that pointed directly at her, and the smile on her lips curled into a demonic frown. A haze of silence rose between them as the beaten woman stared into green eyes, her eyes, stolen by this vindictive spirit. She took in heavy breaths as the tension grew, feeling her own blood slowly drain away from the wounds as the seconds passed, never lifting her gaze away from the child. She allowed the tip of her finger to contract over the gun's trigger as if reminding herself where it was, blinking quickly to keep the girl's image from blurring.

At that instant, the spirit screamed loudly, her voice radiating off the walls gaining pitch as it crossed through the fog surrounding them. The woman, weak and dying as she was, felt her head sting with the volume of the child's shriek. She lifted her hands to her ears in a desperate attempt to block out the noise causing the gun to fall to the ground, and the last bullet within it to pierce through the metal door across from them.

Just as quickly as it started, the girl's screech ceased, revealing the same grinning child on the other side of it, her green now glowing eyes smiling directly back at her attacker. Calina could feel the warm tears slip passed her cheeks, and she was unsure of their origin. She was not scared of death, nor did she regret the life she lived, but the tears still fell, breathing a final insistence on self-preservation. Samantha's footsteps came nearer to the woman whose final pathetic attempt of protection was to throw her arms in front of her body and close her eyes tightly hoping the entity would offer her some sort of compassion and pass by. No such luck of course, she opened her eyes slowly to see the child sitting next to her looking at the door the bullet rebounded into, laughing gently.

"You're funny!" She smiled. From this angle, Calina could see a gaping wound on the girl's neck, inflicted by the dog and probably the cause of death, assuming she hadn't bled to death before the wound was made. Calina felt herself flinch with a strange sense of sympathy towards the girl. Samantha turned her head to look at the woman again, swaying playfully the way children do. "You wanna know a secret?" she asked quietly. Calina nodded. "I see things other people can't, and since I can see them, my pets like me, and they listen to me when I ask them to do things." She got up quickly. "And since you were nice and let me have your eyes. I'm going to let you play with them too!" The woman frowned.

"Play what?" The child glared darkly at the question.

"Weren't you listening!" she yelled. "I said you can play with my pets! Now do you want to play or not!" Calina nodded weakly. Why not after all? What did she have to lose?

"The rules then!" Samantha yelled triumphantly. "You have to let me keep your eyes." Calina nodded. "And you have to make all of them happy!" She flinched again.

"Who?" The girl smiled wider, opening her arms to conjure what felt like a light wind. Her eyes began to burn a bright red, her hair was now darkened beyond a simple grey to pure silver, and her teeth shined beyond the fog. The distinct sound of boards being ripped off of the doors hit Calina's ears, causing adrenaline to flood the already weakened veins inside her skin. Her stomach twisted sickeningly, and her breath escaped her mouth faster than she had ever remembered as her eyes flickered to and from the windows into the room. A swarm of zombies conjugated at each one with a particularly large group coagulating at the door directly adjacent to her. She crawled closer to the Speed Cola machine being caught in a corner, she knew cornering herself was suicide, but instinct overthrew her judgment and she was too weak to move away. One by one, the monsters circled her and the child, groaning and hunched deeply, their skin rotting and torn, their appalling scent bombarding Calina's senses.

"Aren't they wonderful?" Samantha asked gently, cocking her head to the side. Calina didn't dare move. The ghost walked up to her, reaching out a badly torn hand, and laughed. "If you take my hand, you agree to play. If you don't, then I let them eat you, hee hee!" Calina hesitated, but reached up, touching skin that felt like ice and ash, and a shock vibrated through her body immediately, darkness shrouding the area she sat in. Bones cracked underneath her skin, flesh felt as if it were dancing over the wounds stiffly, making the woman let out a loud scream. She felt as if her life was slipping from her grasp and into the hand of the small child before her.

"Please stop!" she begged, the pain bringing her to sobs. Even the devastating attacks from the undead were nothing compared to this burning.

With the cracking of her last bone, the pain faded, and a dim light like she had never seen glowed in the room. Lanterns flickered with candle light, and what sounded like soft music replaced the groaning. She looked down at her body and winced. An elegant dress, painted with natural hues of blues and gold substituted the once tattered clothes she wore only seconds ago. Strands of gold hair that connected to her own scalp fell over her shoulder and to the ground, quaintly replacing her brown locks. Her body was no longer bloodied or sore; it was almost as if she was a different person entirely.

"Get up!" The child's voice, no longer raspy and broken but now sweet and ringing, spread through the darkness. The woman obeyed, lifting her body easily. "And look!" With that, the lights were raised, bleeding quickly into the room. Calina's eyes flickered to and from the faces before her. She smiled.


	2. I: Interruption

_The Kino Der Toten creaked and moaned with every blow of the wind. Swarms of the undead, grouped in fives and tens ready to ambush the men who clung to their lives inside, limped up to the windows of the building in waves._

_For now, there was silence._

**I**

Dempsey stood underneath the first staircase in the theater with a rusted M14 in hand, glaring at the man who had aimed his gun out of the hastily-boarded door and blocked the American's fire.

"Damn it, Nikolai!" he yelled, stabbing his companion causing blood to gush from his shoulder and onto the steel blade. "I wanted that door!" The Russian lazily turned his head to look at the man who assaulted him, and mockingly laughed at his companion's irritation.

"Too bad," Nikolai hiccupped, leaning against the boards. "Early bird gets worm, eh?" Tank growled angrily at the response, gripping harder onto the gun, he was in the mood for headshots, and this was the best door for it! Dempsey got behind the man adjusting his aim through any space the large Russian didn't occupy. Nikolai frowned, broadening his shoulders to claim his territory, and he held up his own M14, waiting for the living dead to wander into the room; as if on cue, the first of the monsters trundled onto the scene.

"It's mine!" Dempsey insisted settling his finger over the trigger and aiming directly at the zombie's sporadically-shaking head. A bang from the Russian's gun sounded a little quicker than the Marine could shoot, and the bullet skulled the creature clean. "Damn it!" he barked, stabbing at the snickering Soviet again for good measure, and turned around to see his door options.

Takeo stood closest to the Quick Revive machine, aiming professionally with his own sniper at the few zombies that had made the mistake of entering through the outside door, and the distinct silver-clang of the Doctor's knife followed by a powerful "DIE!" was heard upstairs. The only choice was the corner window, where the creatures were already tearing down the boards easily, which meant that the M14 sniper rifle was, in fact, useless.

"Fuck me!" he complained, pulling the Olympia off the wall and watching his wallet slowly dwindle. "Waste of cash!" The head of the first demon blew off with an intense bang from the American's shotgun.

The men fluidly shot and stabbed at their group of mutants, and one after another the zombies went down at the hands of these makeshift warriors. The first waves were so painfully easy to kill.

Richtofen looked at his ammo, and gave a disgusted scoff; only two more bullets were left in his precious shotgun. "If I don't find ammo soon, I'll have to resort to…stabbing!" The word tasted almost like a curse.

"Shut up, Richtofen! We've got our own problems down here!" Dempsey responded to the doctor, shooting wildly at the swarm that bombarded his door. The men slowly backed away from the entrances as the zombies began to file in too quickly for them to kill.

"No touching!" Nikolai shouted, shooting off the arm of a creature that scratched at him. Blood trickled down his lip from the contact, and the iron caused his vodka to taste sour, the man scowled.

"I have no ammunition!" Richtofen yelled, lunging his knife into the neck of the swine that had come too close. The contact excited him to the point of adrenaline, and arose the familiar feeling of self-preservation into his consciousness. "It's time to RUN!" He screeched, reaching for the M14 behind him and shooting at one of the many zombies that reached savagely for his life. The others turned to look up at the over-run doctor, each man shooting and stabbing at the closest monsters before running up the single level chaotically. The German opened the first of the doors still blasting off heads with professional aim. Tank stopped at the top of the stairs to throw a grenade at the swarm that chased after them, and the resulting blast caused their numbers to dwindle significantly, giving the man a satisfying smile.

"There's just something so beautiful about blowing shit up!" he chanted, shooting one of the faster demons. The others, seeing the undead limp towards them in more manageable numbers, hindered their retreat and aided their ally, shooting at the ascending monsters and inviting them to a second death. One by wretched-one, they fell to their knees.

"Fuck!" Nikolai grunted after shooting wildly at a dead solider that scratched him, limbs and carnage spread over his body. "Why do they keep touching Nikolai? It must be my vodka!" The others rolled their eyes and shot at the last few of the mutants, the lone crawler still inching its way towards the group with determination. The men turned from the pathetic fiend and slowly walked to the next door. "Open the door, American," Nikolai ordered drunkenly, stumbling towards the post.

"What? Why do I have to open it?" He turned towards the Japanese to his side and nudged his shoulder, making the man glare. "Tak, you open it!" The imperial scoffed with reluctance, but silently walked up to the door and paid the toll. The door's hinges creaked as it swung open, and Tank greedily took the first slow step onto the stairs that lead to the bar.

"Well, that was rather fun, wasn't it?" Richtofen commented, following the group, grunts and slight nods being his only reply. "Aw, where's my enthusiasm?" he asked sarcastically, cackling loudly at his own joke and wiping away a trickle of blood and sweat from his forehead.

"Hey Doc, shut the hell up and come check this out!" The German cocked his head as the men all stood peering over the balcony to the ground below, the sound of groaning echoing through the walls. "More minions?" he assumed, reloading his gun and stepping towards the railing.

All four of the men stood watching, mouths agape, dumbfounded at the scene before them. A small group of zombies, Richtofen silently counted twelve, stood in a perfect circle at the base of the room around a woman, a quite lovely woman in fact, calmly dancing with what seemed to be the tallest of the creatures. He felt himself retch slightly at the sight of maggots and rotted flesh covering her hands and arms, a content smile on her face.

"What the fuck is up with this?" Dempsey commented loudly, still receiving no notice from the group of monsters below them. The doctor was at a loss for words.

"I…am not sure. I have no idea who she is…"

"You're sure she isn't one of your fucked up experiments?" Dempsey spat, shooting a glare at the mad scientist, but Edward shook his head slowly.

"No, I never leave my experiments quite so...intact, ah ha ha ha!" Another personal joke made him laugh loudly.

"You sick bastard," Dempsey breathed leaning against the ledge. The doctor straightened his hat to compose himself, still looking at the sickening scene. "So, should we kill 'em?" The Marine added, slinging his gun over his shoulder, and the doctor frowned.

"I don't know…Maybe shooting will make them violent. Perhaps if we let them be, we can have time to rest." Just the word felt good to the exhausted German.

"They're freakbags, not caribou, Richtofen!" The doctor shrugged.

"Yes, but what about the woman? They aren't attacking her, yet she seems to be very much alive." Tank chewed on his lip tensely, pondering the Doctor's statement.

"Maybe she's like, the ring leader or something."

"No, Samantha and Maxis have control over the undead, not this woman."

"Yeah, but-" BANG! The conversation was cut short by a blast from a nearby gun, and the zombie the woman once danced with was now headless on the ground before her, blood painted on her face. The creatures' heads snapped upward, their yellow eyes glowing in the dim room as they stared directly at them. The three men quickly turned to their right to see the Russian reloading his gun angrily.

"What the hell did you do that for, Nikolai!" Tank shouted, aiming his shotgun for the first creature that rose up the left staircase, shooting out its chest. The Soviet turned and shot at a zombie as well, ignoring the American's question.

"They are all Runners!" Richtofen commented loudly, and the allies quickly retreated back up the steps behind them; each zombie that came into the third room received four bullets before falling to the ground. The small battle was over quickly.

"Unholy demons," Takeo commented under his breath, walking back down the steps to the balcony's edge, with the others close behind. The shaken woman still stood below, shock on her face, and tears falling from her eyes.

"She acts like we just killed her puppy," Tank commented, an uncomfortable tension rising in the air. "Doc, you go talk to her!" The German flinched.

"Uh, no I-"

"Women," Nikolai interrupted quietly with disgust, stepping down the staircase to the girl. The men exchanged a cautious look to one another before following the Russian slowly. Bright blue eyes rose to meet burning brown as Nikolai stopped uncomfortably close to her, snarling. "What are you doing in here?" he barked. "This is no place for woman!" She let out a soft breath, her eyebrows furrowing strongly as she analyzed the group before her. She relaxed slightly meeting the green eyes of the Nazi.

"Erzählen ihm einen Schritt zurück zu nehmen," she breathed angrily. The doctor flinched in trivial shock at the first bit of German he had heard in months, but nodded stiffly at her request all the same.

"Nikolai, she wants you to back up." The Russian turned his head slightly to look at the scientist pausing before he took a single step backward, still glaring at the woman before him. She raised her hand slowly to point at him, a fierce anger that paralleled Belinski's own radiated from her face.

"Why did you kill them!" she screeched, a German accent much softer than the doctor's rang from her throat. The cluster of men behind Nikolai took a step back at her delicately-menacing voice, but the Soviet stubbornly continued his attack.

"Him? It is zombie. You are woman, and you do not belong here! This is place for men!"

"Shut up, Nikolai!" Tank yelled grabbing the man's arm to pull him backwards.

"Nyet!" he shouted, pulling away strongly. "Get out!" Her teeth ground as she stood glaring. A long silence arose as the two stared at one another, first to blink loses. Tank turned his head to look at the Imperial and the German, both taken aback by the situation before them. Endless waves of the undead they were prepared for no problem, but a strong-willed woman and a stubborn Russian was not something they exactly knew how to handle.

"Uh~." The American breathed, dumbly hoping to interrupt the feud. The girl's eyes fell over to him, a hint of violet spreading over the light blue.

"Gentlemen," she began straightening her back into an elegant stance. "What is your business in my theater?" The men stood silent at the question.

"Excuse me, did you say _your_ theater?" Richtofen asked in disbelief. The woman shifted her eyes to the man who spoke, the bright blue slowly returning over the violet.

"Yes. This is my cinema, in which you are all trespassers." The doctor scowled, trying to understand the woman's disposition.

"Tell me, my dear," he began, stepping beside Nikolai to better look at her. "How did you come to acquire this theater?" She smiled at him deviously and twirled around to walk towards the Speed Cola machine, her hair swaying with her steps.

"Guess!" She practically shouted, peeking over her shoulder towards the men. Richtofen raised an eyebrow at the gesture and looked back at his allies, each staring at the girl with obvious confusion. _'Such strange mannerisms.'_ He thought to himself taking a few steps forward.

"What is your name?" he asked disregarding his last question.

"Guess!" she repeated, twisting elegantly by the machine. _'Like a child.'_ The German finished his thought.

"Stop with games!" Nikolai breathed, walking quickly to outpace the doctor, and reached out for the girl. Her body disappeared from their sight the moment his hand made contact with her, blurring like vapor before their eyes. Her soft laughter still rang in their ears. "What?" Nikolai asked loudly as the group looked around the room frantically for the enigmatic woman.

"But games are so fun!" Her echoing voice reverberated off the walls.

"Where the fuck did she go?" Dempsey yelled, his eyes still scouring the area.

"An evil spirit," Takeo observed quietly, subtly looking around the room as well.

"How strange," Richtofen commented last. "Did you do something to her, Nikolai?" There was no response. "Nikolai?" The Soviet turned around stiffly, a scowl still on his features.

"She is upstairs," he said simply, pushing Tank roughly to begin the trudge upward, earning a curse from the American. They watched Nikolai climb leisurely, his gun dragging as he drunkenly held it at his side.

"How the hell does he know?" Dempsey directed his question to no one in particular, slowly following the man. Takeo looked at Edward wearily before shrugging and heading up the staircase as well. Richtofen cringed; he had never seen this girl, yet the familiarity was so dreadfully striking. _'Samantha...?'_ he shivered at the thought ascending to the top floor of the deadened theater behind his unconventional allies.

_And thus, the silence was interrupted._


	3. II: Icicles

_The air was cold around the building for an unusually early winter quickly wrapped itself around the German theater. The boards creaked and moaned with each breeze that passed through them , and icicles hung dangerously from the ceiling._

**II**

"You killed them." Calina's voice was gentle and breaking as she peered down the staircase of the first room with the corpses of the undead still piled below. The men walked into the room cautiously, each still consciously aware of the loaded gun in their hands.

"Yeah, so?" Nikolai swaggered next to her, scowling. She turned her head towards him quickly.

"You had no right! This is my theater, and _my_ domain!" Her accent was thicker when engulfed in anger.

"But, who exactly _are _you?" Richtofen asked again, slight irritation tainting his voice. She smiled widely, and her eyes glistened with childish mischief.

"Guess," answered lowly, a soft laugh breaking the tense air around her.

"Would you, perhaps, be," he paused, "Samantha?" She let out a mocking giggle.

"Nope" Calina twirled around the doctor to where Dempsey stood with his mouth tilted open in confusion. "Do you want to try?"

Nikolai reached for the girl roughly, pulling her back to him by her arm, and she let out a soft yelp.

"No more games! Tell who you are," he held his gun to her head, "or Nikolai will shoot you!" She turned to look at the gun, staring down its barrel; the others all took a short step forward, their mouths open in ready protest.

"With this?" she interrupted the men softly, and gracefully reached for the gun. Upon her touch the sniper rusted to a point of uselessness, its barrel breaking with deterioration and the trigger stiffening with age. Nikolai pulled back his weapon, examining the damage the woman inflicted upon it, a saddened-dumbstruck look on his face.

"I don't think it works," she giggled again gently walking past the men and back to the barroom's direction.

"Wait, wait, wait," Dempsey began following the girl. "You won't tell us your name?" Her steps hindered as she looked back at the Marine.

"You did not ask for my name," she responded sweetly.

"Yeah we did! Richtofen just asked who you were," she danced to the next room, gently wrapping her hand against the post.

"Yes, you asked who I _am_, not for my name," she breathed.

"What is difference?" Nikolai asked, stumbling into the third room.

"Well," she pointed at the German, "your name is Edward, but you are a doctor." She gestured to the Japanese man "your name is Takeo, but you are an Imperial." She brushed the American's arm lovingly. "Your name is Tank, but you are a Marine." She laughed softly, bending slightly towards the Russian, "your name is Nikolai," she smiled, "but you are a Soviet." Nikolai blinked dumbly, his stance wavering from his drunken state.

"A Soviet," the intoxicated soldier breathed gently; nostalgia began to blend the blood and vodka in his veins as visions of his youth danced over his glazed eyes. Calina smiled wider at the reminiscent man, and a soft laugh peeled past her lips, the childish spark in her own eyes always deepening.

"So, what's your name then?" Dempsey asked loudly interrupting Nikolai's memories with a heavy step towards them; she turned to the American quickly.

"My name is Calina, but I am not telling you who I am!" Another of those infuriating laughs.

"And why not?" the doctor asked as the girl began to descend to the bar with the men close behind.

"Because that's no fun!" her voice seemed to echo louder in this room.

"We-" the doctor attempted to protest but was stopped by the sound of groans behind him, waves of the undead filing into the room.

"Shit!" Dempsey yelled, and pulled the trigger to shoot at a zombie that managed to creep so unbearably close behind him he could feel its revolting breath on his skin. A dull _click_ rang from the gun. "What the fuck?" he asked bluntly pulling again and again at the trigger, receiving the same painful sound each time. "What the hell is wrong with this thing?" he asked loudly backing away from the enclosing monsters. The others instinctively attempted to shoot their guns; choruses of clicks rang out through the room.

"No gun! Use knife," Takeo suggested pulling out his blade, and his eyes widened. Each man's dagger was dull, rusted, and useless.

"What now?" the Marine yelled as the men began to retreat into the middle of the room. Reaching back to back they watched the creatures slowly surround them. Calina's smile shined even in the dull room, and she began to hum a haunting tune between her laughs as she walked past the demons to where the four men huddled.

"Now," she began, "you all play my little game." The zombies stopped around her, watching the men intently as if they were simply waiting or their leader's word.

"What game is that?" Richtofen asked in a high tone, adrenaline still pumping rapidly.

"You have to guess who I am!" she sang.

"Or what?" Nikolai asked, still scowling. She cackled loudly gesturing to the zombies around them.

"Or I let them kill you," her voice was cruel.

"I hate games," Nikolai slurred, hanging his head in defeat.

"Well?" Calina stuck her hand out to the German; he raised an eyebrow to her in uncertainty. "If you touch my hand," she began "you agree to play!" The doctor turned his head to look at his allies with an expression meant to wordlessly question their stances on her proposal. The others shrugged and grunted as an agreement.

"What choice do we have?" Takeo asked quietly. Edward sighed in concurrence, and his thin fingers slowly reached to touch the warm hand stretched out to him.

Immediately vibrations rang through their heads. The men let out groans and curses as they covered their ears tightly, desperately trying to cut out the noise. Screams and moaning of the undead plowed through their ears, so maddeningly constant the men's knees buckling to the ground, bones and muscles splintering inside their skin.

Nikolai forced his burning eyes open to look at their offender, her intense grin piercing right through him. He watched as his colleagues fought to stay standing, to stay awake.

"_Stop this_!" Edward insisted, clawing wildly at the wood floor beneath him as he sat hunched over on his knees, still trying to block out the noise, and the inexplicable pain. Calina smiled as she sank to her knees beside him and gently placed her hand on his shoulder; the contact knocked him to the ground further. The distinct taste of his own blood began to fill his mouth.

"But oh how wonderful it is to see test subjects in pain, wouldn't you agree, Doctor?" He flinched underneath her and his teeth began to grind as he fought a building scream. She sighed softly as she looked at the men, each on the edge of consciousness, their bodies shaking with spasms of pain. "I suppose, however," she opened her hands wide, the winds strengthening throughout the building; "you _have_ had enough." The lights darkened. The men groggily attempted to stand, their bodies thick and unfamiliar to them.

"We need to bring light to this dark place," Takeo's voice was almost weary past his heavy breaths. The laughter of a little girl replaced Calina's as the candles and lanterns upon the walls began to flicker. Slowly light bled through the room.

"It's-" Richtofen began carefully, fearful that his eyes may be deceiving him, "like it's new again." The German, being the only person out of the group who had seen the Kino before it was destroyed to ruins, stood shocked at the sight of the area; it was indeed, like new. The walls, the stairs, the tables, even music rang through the speakers like it did so many years ago playing the same tune the woman had hummed before. Richtofen narrowed his eyes in slight disorientation before bending to pick up the hat that fell to the ground, placing on his head. "Nikolai, Takeo," he shouted, his own nostalgia of the days he spent as an authoritative scientist beginning to drown him. "Return up the staircase and see if the entirety of the theater is this," he frowned, "fresh." There was simply no other word to describe the once-shattered theater.

"Hai," Takeo bowed quickly, and the Russian simply growled, pulling the MP40 that still hung off the wall to the right.

"Dempsey, you and I will open the rest of the doors, and do the same. We'll all meet in the stage room, is that agreed?" Richtofen said, tearing the gun from the wall as well. No answer, not even a single grunt.

He turned around watching the men separate left and right, the German scowled tensely. "Do not," he hissed, and took a strong breath as he shot at the door Dempsey reached for, making the American pull his hand back quickly with a gasp, "ignore," he turned around shooting the hat from the Imperial's head with a single bullet and breaking the vodka bottle that seemed to perpetually dangle from the Soviet's hand with another, "THE DOCTOR!"

"This room too, Doc," Tank shouted after opening the stage curtain and peering over the rows of seats, each one covered in bright velvet as if they had never been used.

"This is…strange."

"Brilliant fucking deduction, Richtofen," the Marine spat, jumping off the stage with a thud. "Anything else you want to point out there? Like maybe how the sky is usually blue?" Edward snarled at the other man but brushed off his comments as useless American drivel.

"This Calina," Edward began as he leapt to the floor as well. "She must have control over our senses."

"What, you think this is all a dream?" The doctor nodded calmly.

"Or an optical illusion of some sorts; in reality this theater is still broken and aged, what we are seeing simply is not."

"This ain't my dream! If it were _my_ dream there'd be babes, beer, and lots of guns, oorah!" The German rolled his eyes.

"Shut up, idiot," Edward yelled. "Make yourself useful and find the others! We'd be best to begin finding clues to this little game!"

"Yeah, whatever, but I'm getting a Juggernog first," Dempsey whined, heading down the path to the first room. "Where do you think that chick went anyway?"

"I-" the scientist paused, his eyebrows furrowing tensely as he pondered the question, "I don't know." Tank smirked.

"There's a first…" Richtofen's gun felt unusually heavy as he listened to the Marine's footsteps fade.

"Room is new as well," the Japanese soldier breathed more to himself rather than his assigned partner, "and still there is no zombie!" The Russian stumbled to lean against the bar by the brightly glowing Quick Revive machine.

"Fucking German shot my vodka," Nikolai slurred looking at the selection of alcohol the small tavern offered. "Is lucky place is new and has drink or Nikolai would shoot _him_!" He reached down, pulling the first bottle of auburn liquid he could find before examining the title and throwing it behind his shoulder with a crash, followed by another, then another. Takeo flinched at the noise before walking over to the bar as well.

"Sake?" he asked hopefully; it had been so long since the man had tasted the favored liquor of his country. Nikolai looked up through heavy eyes, a slight smirk forming over his stone features.

"Maybe," he said deliberately bending to examine the titles of the bottles below him, "hope I did not break." Takeo felt himself frown. A second passed, and the glass clang of breaking bottles hit the cold room like hailstorms. "Ah!" Nikolai yelled pounding two bottles onto the bar top. "Nikolai cannot read bottle, this is what you want, da?" Takeo smiled widely, swiping the dark bottle from the top of the counter, pulling off the cork and greedily gulping at the liquid. The Russian tried not to smile.

A soft laugh echoed behind the Soviet's shoulder making him turn quickly, his balance failing from the sudden movement.

"What is wrong?" Takeo breathed, the alcohol already beginning to affect him.

"That woman," Nikolai snarled with impulsive anger. "She is here."

_The first of the icy daggers fell to the floor._


	4. III: Maddness

**_A/N: Hello all, no, surprising ebough I am not dead. Rather, I have been extremely busy and, unfortunately, my poor zombie story is not too high on my list of priorities. With spring break in my midst though I should be able to crank out a couple chapters, so please enjoy._**

**_Disclaimer (since I don't recall ever doing one) I do not own Zombies or its character affiliations, that belongs to Triarch. I do, however, own Calina and everything she entails so please do not take her without a disclaimer of your own._**

**_As always thank you for the reads, always appreciated :)_**

* * *

><p>"<em>The sound is deafening," she breathed in a whisper, "a quiet noise off in the distance, maddeningly constant. The essence that invites men behind prison bars into a destined insanity." Her hands shook as the blood dripped from her skin onto the ground around them; he could never have been sure of the origin of that blood. "Do not ignore the sound, darling," she warned, taking a shaky breath, just large enough to finish her sentence, caressing his cheek painting his skin a cherry red, "acknowledge that it's there…or risk falling prey." <em>

III

"Hey! We were all supposed to meet in the stage room! What the hell is taking you bastards so long?" Dempsey whined, coming into the first room, the red liquid from the juggernog dripping from his lip as he walked in. Takeo drunkenly turned to face the American, scoffing in disgust at his presence, breathing phrases against his honor into the sake bottle he lovingly drank from. Nikolai walked up the stairs slowly, and ignored the man's complaints behind him. "Where are you going?" Dempsey asked following the soviet, his footsteps heavy on the stairs.

"Stop! Don't move!" Nikolai slurred, looking passed the first door. Tank obeyed, slowing his steps to a halt and watching the man analyze the second room he stood before, an intense concentration on his face like none the American had ever seen from his counterpart.

"What's going on?" Tank asked dumbly, taking another step, curiosity rising.

"I said don't move!" Nikolai barked aiming his MP40 at the American, his hand draping over the trigger threateningly. Tank paused again, his eyebrows dropping from anger as he raised his own gun towards the Russian, who continued to stare at nothing. A moment of silence, a sound so unfamiliar to any man in the makeshift group, rang out through the building as Nikolai inched towards the room, his gun still rested on his colleague.

"What the fuck is going on?" Tank insisted, and shot at the door the Soviet stared past.

"Fuck," Nikolai yelled, stepping down the stairs and pushing the American against the wall by his shoulder quicker than Dempsey anticipated the drunken man capable. A shining blade pressed against the Marine's neck and a gun barrel rested against his stomach. Tank chewed on his lip in anger, tasting the iron of his own blood as the dark eyes of the Russian met his. "Shut the hell up, American! Each time you make sound she goes away!" Dempsey struggled against the Russian's hold, a defiant anger reaching the temperamental man as he raised his gun to Nikolai's head.

"Get the fuck off me," Dempsey threatened angling his gun to emphasize its presence. Nikolai stared at the American in anger, and Dempsey's glare never wavered; it was a contest of dominance.

"Shut up," Nikolai lost, pulling his gun away from the American's stomach and taking a few steps back up the stairs, that concentration quickly working its way back to his face. From behind the men, a slight chuckle from the intoxicated Japanese rang out, along with more curses of dishonor, as he walked into the stage room.

Edward twitched with irritation as he analyzed the glimmering teleporter sparking with optimum efficiency and buzzing with available use.

"Hai, the teleporter, good idea!" The German jumped in shock, instinctively draping his fingers over his gun in preparation, and turned to see the Imperial walking up the room to where he stood. "Maybe it can bring us back to reality," the Japanese suggested butchering the R's of his words as normal. Richtofen scoffed,

"Yes, well, that may work but there's no way to _activate_ it!" It took what was left of his sanity and judgment to not shoot the constantly sparking wire that practically mocked him. Takeo frowned and pushed past the doctor to walk into the teleporter, feeling the walls for some activation point.

"No button?" Takeo slurred.

Richtofen twitched. "No! No button!" his voice raised with frustration. Edward jumped off the stage, caressing the barrel of his newly acquired AUG looking around the brightened room yet again, still trying to make sense of the images that stood before him. "It seems as if there's no real point to having a gun at the moment," he breathed, mostly to himself. _'Even if we were to have guns readily available, that woman can easily render them useless.'_ He looked at the glistening black hanging off his belt. _'But how?' _The German turned to look behind him, watching as the Imperial ignorantly continued to feel around the teleporter for an item that simply wasn't there, and as the creator of the invention he knew that better than anyone. He shrugged his companion off behind him leaving him to his hunt and walked to the first room to open the door located underneath the staircase. Richtofen twitched as he passed the juggernog machine, an instinct to buy the red liquid conflicted with his knowledge that the item was useless, just as their weapons were; this woman had complete control over the men's lives, and that challenge of dominance is what got to him the most. A girl, insignificant and weak, had complete say over their existence, but he didn't understand _how_! That damn question was so infuriating; it was constant, never ending, perpetually unanswerable.

The German turned to the right as he passed the door to the first room and paid the toll to open the next, breathing in the musky scent of dust and mildew. The room was cold, colder than he expected considering that the date meant that it was mid fall. His breath, white and thick, swirled around him with every exhale, cradling with it the idea of life. He chuckled lightly at the thought, making the white blur together in a chopped mist. He tensed his shoulders, walking to the next door and stood before it, jiggling the handle as it clicked against his attempts to open it. "What?" the doctor breathed with infuriation, an anger—one familiar to him—pulsed hard through his veins. He looked into his wallet, counting the currency within it, once, then twice. He had plenty to pay the toll, but it still wouldn't budge. Richtofen's hands twitched and he pulled out the gun hanging from his belt, delivering thirty bullets into the wood of the door, shouting curses in German with every revolution of his barrel, his frustrations building. "I want to go outside," he yelled desperately, shooting the door again.

"You shouldn't do that, Doctor," a soft voice rang out from somewhere behind his shoulder. He stopped shooting at the door and turned his head slowly around taking in the room behind him. Her blue eyes sparkled as she leaned against the wall, hands behind her back. Her pale face seemed more like ice than it did skin, her lips a light purple as they shivered lightly.

The doctor chuckled. "And why not?" he asked, stepping to turn around and face her.

She smiled softly. "Because there's a blizzard just beyond that door." Her teeth chattered just slightly as she spoke, "I would hate for you to freeze to death." Her smile widened, her lips parted to show white teeth, and a vindictive aura permeated her voice.

"Yes, well," he began, taking a step towards her, making her smile fall quickly and her eyes shine with alert. The doctor paused, and slowed his breath as if she were an animal ready to run from his sights at the slightest wrong gesture. "I won't be out too long; I just wanted a drink," he breathed, hoping that if he told her something believable it would make her open the door. She smiled again, turning to walk back into the prior room. He turned around at the sound of a click as the door was flung open by the wind, and the snow pelted against his arm, making the hairs of his forearm stand erect. He cleared his throat. "Ah, danke," he said, turning back to face the girl who was, not surprisingly, gone.

Richtofen's slight smile fell with infuriation as he took a step outside, snowflakes beating against his face miserably. He looked at the alleyway covered in snow and ice, no trace of life, not even reanimated life. He took a strong breath, and the cold burned through his lungs like needles. He walked backwards into the theater and reached to close the door against the cold.

He turned in the direction the girl went, trying to think of clues to the game she insisted upon them. "Oh, Calina~" he sang insanely, walking into the theater room, "where are you~?" He took a sharp breath as he watched the drunk Japanese stumble behind the stage, singing some patriotic song, and the distinct arguing between the American and the Russian rang through the still building, the new music constantly whispered through the speakers. Things were so dull without the excitement of the undead reaching for their lives, ans now the group had more time than they were ever used to. Richtofen always figured the only way he would have any freedom was if the minions successfully took his life and he was made to wander in hell. That would have been quite nice, of course; hell was one of the few things the doctor looked forward too. "Calina~" he sang again, louder, smirking at a blur of blue that ran behind the theater chairs, and heard a soft squeal of excitement comparable only to that of a child. "Oly oly oxen free! Ahaha!" he laughed, pulling out his weapon and shooting at the chair her dress just brushed behind. The doctor smiled widely, having more fun with this little game than he probably would care to admit, shooting at any movement or glimmer that caught his eye. "Come out, come out wherever you are!" His teeth gleamed widely as he held his gun close to him, lovingly stroking the trigger and scouring the room for his target.

"Yo, Doc!" Dempsey yelled, coming into the room with the Russian stumbling behind him. "What the fuck are you shooting at?" Edward twitched at the sound of the other man's voice and lifted his gun to aim for him.

"Go away, Dempsey." He smiled "Or you'll make her run away." Dempsey blinked dumbly.

"You gotta be kidding me! How come everyone can see this bitch but me?" he whined, almost as if his feelings were hurt. Richtofen wouldn't lie and say that seeing the American offended didn't fill him with some joy.

"Maybe you are ugly, hahaha!" The Russian staggered more drunken than usual, letting his guard down with the comfort of time.

"Like you're one to talk, fat ass!" Dempsey choked, stabbing at the unbalanced Russian.

"Shut up, you idiots! Go annoy someone else, I'm busy," the German barked, and bent to look under the chairs, searching for the woman's feet.

"And what do you suggest we do, Richtofen? The doors won't open, the maggot-sacks aren't coming, there's nothing to fucking do!" He sounded like a teenager, typical American.

"Go try to find clues to this damn game! Move furniture, look for writing, papers, recordings, try to find a reel. Just make yourselves useful and do something!" The doctor twitched with annoyance. Tank sighed in defeat.

"Whatever!" he yelled, kicking the drunken Russian again for good measure and walking out of the room. Nikolai followed close behind him, still laughing-at-nothing behind the American. Richtofen heard the mumbling of a sleeping Japanese, and watched as his other allies turned the corner into the first room. A sadistic smile crept up his face as he sat on one of the many new chairs, chuckling lightly. Her scent was strong, though nothing like rotting flesh, no; hers was pleasant, like lavender and rosemary. Richtofen closed his eyes.

"So what exactly do we have to do?" He took a shallow breath as he felt her teeth gleam, even from behind him, and she began to hum to the same tune around them.

"All you have to do is answer a question." Her breath was soft, almost making his mouth water. She bent to get closer to his ear, making him shiver in defense and twitch towards his gun. "Who can stop the rain?" He frowned and took in the question, once, then twice. How maddening that sounded.

"Who can stop the rain...?" he repeated, as if voicing it made it tangible. His smile fell as he turned around to nothing, hearing her laugh somewhere just beyond sight. He gripped his weapon, shooting where she was, if for no other reason than to hear the comforting bang of his gun. He twitched with precipitate anger, snarling like he has for as long as he could remember. How maddening…

_Who can stop the Rain?_


	5. IIII: Darkened

_It's cold. Freezing. I've lost all feeling in my body, I couldn't even tell you if it were still here at this point. It may not be; I can't tell anymore. It's almost as if my mind is suspended in nothing, laddered, vulnerable. It's cold._

IIII

Richtofen could feel his hands twitching with anger. 'No person can stop the rain, you foolish girl.' He thought loudly not quite realizing how furiously his face was convulsing due to his confusion. "American!" He yelled walking into the first room, and fiercely kicked away a chair that had the audacity to block his path. "DEMPSEY!" he yelled again, losing his already failed patience.

"Yeah, yeah, what do you want Doc?" Dempsey answered waddling into the room the doctor stood in.

"What have you idiots been doing?" The German sighed pinching the bridge of his nose feeling a headache creep its way into his mind like maggots into deadened flesh.

"Looking for fucking clues like you said, Richtofen!" He gave a smart tone to the word 'clue' as if the scavenger hunt they were all sent on was nothing but a waste of precious energy and time.

"Hm, yes well," the Doctor began, his voice higher in concentration, his eyes constantly scanning the area for anything he would deem important. "The question we have to answer is…" he paused rolling the words in his mind a couple times, silently hoping he can find the solution without needing to voice it. He failed, "who can stop the rain?"

Dempsey twitched, "you're kidding me. What the hell kind of riddle is that?" Richtofen sighed.

"Just go tell the Russian and the Imperial."

"And what are you going to do?" the Marine shot out annoyingly. The Doctor smiled a sickening full-teeth smile.

"I'm just going to explore." The American cocked a brow at his colleague, but pushed past him all the same shaking his head at the insanity of the doctor.

"Ghosts don't fall as easy as freakbags, Richtofen." The German chuckled lightly and began to walk back towards the stage room, holding his gun giddily by his side. The American shook his head again and walked back up the stairs to deliver the twisted message to the other men.

"Calina." Richtofen smiled at nothing but empty rows of chairs and propaganda videos ever prominent on the large screen. He smirked. "Calina~ah-haha!" he smiled hopping onto the stage. "No need to be afraid of the Doctor!" He cracked his neck, slowly letting his vindictive smile fall and began looking around the back of the curtain, analyzing every inch of the walls. 'Where is it' he thought, his mouth twitching with desperation. 'It was along this wall, I swear it,' even his thoughts were loud as he continued scouring the walls for a bump, a divot, some tell-tale sign that the hidden door that led to the part of the building where Samantha and Maxis once resided was still within the disillusioned building. "Knock knock!" he mimicked as he rapped on the walls listening for a hallowed area. "Let the doctor in, it is time for a check-up! Ah-haha" Almost as if the building had listened to the doctor a final tap of the wall caused the hidden door to push open with a sigh, a cold breeze making its way into the theater causing the doctor to shiver from the sudden change of temperature.

A smirk made its way across his face as he pushed the door open with a creak revealing a darkened stairway laced with spider webs and the smell of dust. He closed the hidden door behind him with a thud, thinking with satisfaction that his simple-minded allies would never be clever enough to find a hidden door at the back of the stage. "Haven't those fools ever wondered where Samantha's room actually was?" Richtofen asked himself, aiming his gun with each corner he turned. The stairs creaked and groaned with every step he took, making his heart beat rapidly with annoyance, fearing that the others may hear the noise and stumble upon this well-kept secret.

"Shut up!" the doctor yelled in a hush, pointing the barrel at the stairs, trying to intimidate them. Dust fell from the cobwebs above him as he continued up the defiant stairs, making it hard for him to breathe. He allowed his mind to wander. A girl or perhaps a woman, it seemed that every time she appeared she was a different age, but she _was_ undoubtedly beautiful. Her hair was impossibly long, golden locks and brilliant blue eyes that were a Nazi's dream to have. Flawless skin, perfect German, she was…was…A growl in his ear snapped him out of his fantasy. Edward laughed casually, reaching the third level of the building with a final stair-step and a poof of dust.

"How can you say that? Of course she's up here! This girl is obviously Samantha." He answered the voices shouting at him, demanding to know where he was going. "No, no, Samantha herself is probably harmless and any minion up here will be easy to spot with the _glow in their eyes! Ah-haha!_" he laughed maniacally pointing his gun down the greyed hallway, watching his white breath swirl around him as he exhaled, his heart was pounding with adrenaline as the doors to the many rooms of the top floor of the Kino swung open and shut from the howling wind. Oh what fun this was.

"Samantha, I don't like hide-and-SEEK!" He shot a single bullet into a billowing white curtain that caught his eye in the room to his left, and the door swung open wide as if inviting him in. The doctor shrugged and walked inside; a bed, perfectly made and seemingly untouched laid to his right, the small window in front of him was slightly ajar making the wind screech with a high tone, and to his left, tucked away neatly in a corner, a brown chest sat and begged to be opened. Surrounded meekly by what looked like snow, the once golden lock of the chest was rusted and obviously weak. Richtofen smiled.

"I know, I know! I'm going to open it!" he shouted to the voices yelling at him in his head. Instinct caused him to go towards the chest slowly, anticipating that something dangerous was inside. He kneeled down, brushing off the snow, reading the inscription that was on top. _'Dìa de Los Àngeles' _was scribes in gold on the top. Richtofen's smile slowly fell; he didn't know what it meant. "This is Spanish," he whispered to himself, "why would this be in Spanish?" He jiggled at the surprisingly resilient lock a few times until the rust started to break the metal apart. He began to shiver with excitement as the lock fell off, leaving the chest vulnerable. He opened it deliberately, hearing the chest crack open with a loud creak. Inside there were little items wrapped daintily in pale, color drained sheets. He took the first item, unwrapping a silver hand mirror, the inscription on the bottom read _'Un Dìa de Dulce' _He frowned and put the item to the side pulling out another. An old watch was under the mirror, _'Vida por el Dìa'. _"Dia," he whispered to himself, the thick accent butchering the true syllables of the foreign word worse than English, "that word keeps popping up." A final item lay at the bottom of the chest, he removed the cloth around it and a small journal was revealed. _'Buscò el Dìa'. _He opened the book, and didn't know why he was surprised to find that every word within was in Spanish. At the top of every entry read: _'La fecha es' _followed by a series of corresponding numbers, it represented a date_. _One particular series caught the doctor's eye and the voices groaned,"The first of November 1938? Why is that important?" his head yelled at him as a response, "Oh yes, that's right. I remember now." He took a breath, scanning every word that was in the book. _'No necesito ayuda', _every page had those four words upon it somewhere_. _He took the mirror and the clock, threw them back into the chest hearing the shatter of the mirror as it hit the bottom, and he stuffed the journal into his pocket. He grabbed his gun and reached to shut the crate, but a black glisten inside stopped him. Slowly he took the barrel of his gun and moved the sheet covering the hidden item. A gun, specifically a Kar98k, lay potently at the bottom, a slew of ammo sprawled around it. His mouth twisted upward as he looked at the weapon, someone didn't want anyone to know it was there. The doctor closed the chest and turned around to walk back into the hallway. Perhaps one of his colleagues could read the language.

_The storm never fails to bring darkened clouds, ice, and wind in its wake._

_It's so cold._


End file.
